Chapter 11: Lying

Wolfgang placed the ice cube tray into the microwave with steady hands. They stayed steady even as he strained the diamonds from the heated water, methodically depositing the glittering rocks into the black velvet pouch. He pulled the bag's strings tight and his watch winked from his wrist.

Wolfgang already knew the time. He had to, with a plan laid out.

Most smokers told Wolfgang that smoking woke them up. Similar to caffeine, the nicotine jarred their muscles, heightened their senses.

Wolfgang smoked for other reasons. The curling fingers of the vapors massaged his muscles insistently, uncoiling them from hypervigilance. Similarly, although his pulse did not slow, a drag from a cigarette would ease Wolfgang's nerves into a grey tide - predictable waves of stress, however unabating.

It was a vice. But there are worse in life, Wolfgang thought, pulling his car into the abandoned lot. He flicked the smoldering butt from his fingertips and out the window. He exhaled slowly, smoke blowing across the wet surface of his lips.

His black aviators landed onto the dashboard of BMW by his easy toss, glove box popping open under his probing hand. Wolfgang reached into the depths of the car, fingers brushing over documents until they closed around his intended target.

Killing is easy… when you can feel nothing. A vaguely British voice cut through the static of Wolfgang's thoughts, a flash of dark features and the green of a hospital gown.

Wolfgang pulled the door handle, reflection catching in his driver's side mirror. He didn't hesitate. Now is not the time for introspection.

Closing the door of the BMW behind him, Wolfgang raised his leather-clad arms in what he hoped was a passable imitation of surrender. He rounded the car quickly, intercepted by one of Steiner's lackeys. Greasy hair and a tacky gold chain consumed Wolfgang's vision seconds before he was unceremoniously thrust onto the hood of his car.

Hot breath with the consistency and smell of a five-day-old döner assaulted Wolfgang's senses as Steiner's man got too close, patting down his ribcage and thighs with the air of a man who was specifically ordered to not take chances.

Wolfgang willed his hands to stay flat on the hood as he heard several car doors slam behind him. He looked over his shoulder as the man continued to search his person. One, two, three, four… fuck, fine. Five men, not counting Steiner himself.

"Search him."

"I just did."

"Search him again!" Steiner's exasperation hit Wolfgang like a punch. "He's a fucking smart guy, aren't you, Wolfie? He knows all the tricks, so fucking smart." It took everything Wolfgang had to bite back his retorts, namely relating his cousin's dick size to his IQ points. Wolfgang exhaled. What he would do for another cigarette.

"Just found this," Greasy Hair said, displaying the velvet bag from Wolfgang's inner pocket. Finally, Wolfgang huffed.

"Open it. Could be wired." Wolfgang could see Steiner raising his arms in his peripheral in tandem with his eyebrows. It's all a game to him, Wolfgang reminded himself. Let him play it. Let him play into yours.

Wolfgang rested his open hands at his sides, turning to face the group. Everyone had backed up at Steiner's pronouncement, wary.

"Open it!" A few tense seconds and then Greasy Hair was nodding, eyebrows lifted. Steiner rubbed his hands together, emerging from behind the door of his vehicle. "Yeah," Steiner approached his man quickly, snatching the small bag and fixing Wolfgang with his truncated version of a smirk. Wolfgang's cousin emptied the bag in his hand, a low whistling emanating from his mouth. "So fucking smart." Wolfgang stepped closer, an answer to the challenge in Steiner's gaze. "You think Felix would think you're so fucking smart now?" Steiner held up the bag between them, his beady gaze probing at Wolfgang's tense face. Play the game. Hope it pays off.

"You got what you wanted."

"I want to know something." A hand on Wolfgang's jacket. "How did you do it?"

The safe was an S&D. Sergei's voice dripped into Wolfgang's thoughts, acidic, unbelieving.

"When I walked in the safe was clean. I spent two hours cutting it open. Tell me… how you did it."

It would be an irony of Shakespearean proportions if his son fucked his own life cracking the safe his father failed to crack, wouldn't it?

"I cracked it," Wolfgang said.

"You cracked it?" Steiner's whisper was a knife's edge, another challenge. "Like… in the movies? Listening to the tumblers with your stethoscope? You just cracked it?!"

A burst of intense pain flared in Wolfgang's gut and he was on the cement, a grunt escaping from his throat. Fucking play along.

"Fucking smart guy right here!" Wolfgang struggled to prop himself up on his right hand, his left clenched in the fabric of his shirt. "First guy in history to fuck the pants off an S&D safe." Steiner's voice sounded from above Wolfgang, a too-loud spearhead through a temporary haze. "Huh?"

Wolfgang glanced up just in time to see Steiner's fist connect with his jaw. The hit had his neck snapping to the right, hands scrabbling beneath him for purchase. Play along.

Wolfgang was sweating underneath his jacket.

"Is that really what you expect me to believe? You think I'm that fucking stupid? Hah!" Steiner's kick pushed Wolfgang further from the BMW, onto his back. Wolfgang's right arm reached out in front of him, a stretch on the gritty pavement. "Oh? Is that what you think? You think I'm stupid, huh?" Just keep talking, keep talking… Wolfgang levered one arm in front of another, a mockery of an army crawl.

"Hey Wolfie, where are you going? You haven't answered my question yet." A boot ground into the joint of Wolfgang's knee. He thought he heard a faint click, and bit back a grimace. "Answer my fucking question." Steiner's arm extended towards Wolfgang's face, gun first. From above him came the click of the safety disengaging, and then feeling of slick metal connected with Wolfgang's temple, pushing down.

Wolfgang exhaled. "No," he muttered, eyes flickering toward the BMW's underbelly.

"Well, ok." The gun vanished, a false retreat. "First smart thing you said. Now…" The metal returned, harder pressure, the edges of a headache. "Tell me the fucking truth or I'll blow your smart-guy brains all over the fucking street." Wolfgang risked a glance backwards. Fuck. I need help. He concentrated inward, thoughts receding from the sweat and gunshot residue mingling at the hollow of his skull. This would be a good time for… Wolfgang felt as soon as the other presence joined him. Gritting his teeth, he looked once more at the car in front of him, the metallic tang of blood a familiar taste in his mouth. Realization hit Wolfgang suddenly, breakers against the beach.

He gazed back at Steiner once more, time slow, heavy.

And then a second perspective. Steiner standing over his body, gun in hand, teeth bared. The bodyguards behind them both, watching. And then, next to where Wolfgang stood, off to the side -

They stared at each other. Dark stubble, a hint of a pout. Defined cheekbones. An easily recognizable scent - alcohol. Smooth skin, soft, long lashes. Even as Wolfgang stood at the precipice of watching his own demise, his observation skills couldn't deny his fellow spectator was attractive. Distractingly so. A distraction…

"You knew everything." An assured whisper, directed solely towards him. "You knew he would hit you, you knew you would fall to the ground. But he kicked you and drove you away from the gun. You were really close."

"All I needed was a little space." Wolfgang's hand motioned forward, head shaking minutely, exasperated. He could feel the man's eyes on him, but refused to turn.

"Why don't you just," the man leaned closer, "tell him something he wants to hear? Tell him… tell him… I don't know, just a little lie that will make him relax and then we -"

We, Wolfgang thought.

" - and then we'll figure it out." The man was nodding now, enthused by his own idea.

"I can't."

"Why?" Most people would be annoyed, but not this man. He was understanding - perceptive, Wolfgang thought. Perceptive. Wolfgang still couldn't turn to look at him.

"He reminds me of my father."

"Just a little lie." Wolfgang shook his head. He couldn't. I can't.

"Ok. May I?" He startled, looking at the man and then the frozen scene in front of them. "Do you mind?" His lips parted in incomprehension.

The stranger waggled a finger, patting Wolfgang's chest consolingly.

Time restarted.

"Did you hear me?!" Steiner again. "Tell me the fucking truth." Wolfgang's cousin was panting now in anger. "Tell me!" The gun came down, and the man-who-was-and-was-not-Wolfgang grunted, spitting blood. His left arm rose defensively, head turning away.

Wolfgang longed to look back, every instinct screaming at him. No weakness.

"It was Felix." The words spilled from Wolfgang, foreign, smooth. "It was Felix." Blood swept away from his upper lip, Steiner's taut gaze resting squarely on him. "He found out… the Indian liked boys. Ran into him at a club, fed him some drinks." Steiner began to chuckle. Wolfgang refused to think. "Felix got the combination from him."

"I knew it! I fucking knew it! Fucking Felix!" Steiner turned away, pacing excitedly. Steiner pressed his gun away, to a man in a white tank top. "I bet he sucked his cock!" Steiner's words faded from Wolfgang's attention, gaze drifting back towards the BMW. "There had to be some cock-sucking involved. He sucked his cock, didn't he?" Steiner was close once more, demanding.

Wolfgang felt barbs rise in his throat.

Someone else pushed them back down.

"He did what he had to do."

"Ooh," Steiner crowed. "Cock-sucking Felix!" Steiner laughed, back turned from Wolfgang, jewelry bag unearthed from his pockets. "Look. Look at this. Would any of you suck cock for this?" Wolfgang crawled closer, closer -

"Sure," White Tank Top replied.

"That's why you and cock-sucking Felix and Wolfie are all fucking idiots, and I'm the only one with some fucking brains around here!"

Wolfgang lunged, someone else's knees scraping the pavement with his, someone else's fingers closing around the grip of his gun just as his did -

But it was solely Wolfgang's arm brandishing the weapon, and then his aim that followed, hitting one man in the heart, another in the chest, a riot of bullets, a spray -

- and then Wolfgang's legs rolled over the hood of his BMW, more bullets flying, crossing, catching another one of Steiner's men in the chest, who crumpled, falling -

Bullets pinged off the metal of the BMW's hood as Wolfie crouched behind the frame. His grip on his firearm was solid as he dived out from the shelter of the car, ears ringing as the shots popped around him, another man down, Steiner's rear tires spinning, reversing -

Escaping.

Wolfgang tucked his pistol into his waistband even as Steiner hurled insults from the car, spit flying from his mouth.

Wolfgang opened up the trunk of the BMW smoothly, hands reaching inside, closing around dark metal, shouldering the heavy weapon. He exhaled, aiming through the sights, finger closing around the trigger of the rocket launcher -

"FUCK!"

The explosion was more satisfying than Wolfgang anticipated.

He can't hurt Felix anymore.

Wolfgang turned, returning the weapon to the trunk. "Fucking hell!" The man-who-was-not-Wolfgang cheered, pumping his fist ecstatically. "That's what I'm talking about!" Wolfgang was suddenly assailed by aftershave and sweat, corded arms closing around him. "Fucking hell, man." The man's face was comically contorted, arms wild, gesturing. "What the fuck is that?"

Wolfgang leaned forward, smiling, unable to hold back a matching grin. He clasped the man's hand in a real handshake, expression turning serious. "Thank you."

The man's smile slipped away, tongue darting out to wet full lips. "Lying is easy. It's what I do."

Wolfgang nodded, emotional feedback and memories cascading over him in torrents. He needs help. "Sometimes… you make a mistake. You've got two choices: you live with it, or you fix it."

Wolfgang slide into the driver's seat of the ravaged BMW, sparing one last look at his savior behind him. He realized he liked more than one of the people currently sharing his brain. He looked towards the glove box, towards his packet of cigarettes. They would relax his muscles, his mind.

But for once -

I don't need it.

A/N: Reviews are always appreciated. They keep me writing. Happy Season 2!